Larry Brown didn’t sleep much either.
It was no surprise that he hadn’t heard from the ambassador, but churning things over and thinking about missing scientists, he suddenly remembered Philippe Fournier.
At first light, he called Philippe’s number, but there was not even a ringtone. He called his place of work, the Kenyatta National Hospital, and after being passed from one department to another, the answer was clear. Philippe had disappeared with no warning, no notice, and no sign of any problems, except that he was well known for complaining about pay.
When Larry called me, I was at the airport waiting to board for Cairo.
We added Philippe to the growing list.
I then asked Larry what he knew about the Biological Weapons Convention? Did the BWC talk to the WHO? Or was the BWC just another talking shop? I was actually testing him using an extension of the negative prompt strategy I’d used with David Chua. You know the answer already, but it’s only fair to give a guy the chance to prove his worth.
Larry passed with flying colours. He’d already checked and concluded, just as I had, that the Biological Weapons Convention –
the BWC - was a talking shop for politicians and bureaucrats who never say no to expenses-paid trips to places like Geneva. Also, it was part of the United Nations which explained a lot.
“I called but gave up,” he said. “I left messages but no-one responded.
Did you the BWC is part of the UN Office for Disarmament Affairs.
It was set up to prohibit the development, production, acquisition, transfer, stockpiling and use of biological and toxin weapons. It also claims that 185 countries have signed up to the Convention but it seems to me that each of its eight key provisions are ignored by everyone including the USA and China.
“The WHO is bad enough,” he went on. “No one knows what to do in a situation like this. The CIA or MI6 might listen, but they’ll only act on evidence and they’d probably want WHO input. Never ending circle.”
None of this was news to me, of course, but the fact that Larry had arrived at the same conclusion I’d had for years on these international bodies was reassuring. I told him I was heading to Cairo but that I’d get Colin to set up a Zoom or Skype link.
***
Colin’s video conferences are usually just two people: Colin and me. He sits in his office, and I sit wherever I happen to be. This call was no different except I was now in a hotel in Cairo, Larry was in his kitchen in Lagos and Kevin was perched on his sofa in Bristol.Colin chaired the gathering as he likes being in charge but I knew he was sat at his desk with a pile of avocado, prawn, and mayonnaise sandwiches in front of him.
“Welcome to a virtual breakfast,” he said with signs of mayonnaise running from his chin. We’d then gone around the world, sharing thoughts and offering what little fresh news we had.
Colin concluded by splitting tasks.
Kevin’s job was to find someone with power and influence who could persuade someone with even greater power and influence to listen and then act. “If that means you head to Downing Street or the White House, then so be it,” Colin instructed.
Colin himself would track down photos of those we’d listed: Mohamed Kader, David Solomon, and GOB.
Larry’s job was to take Colin’s photos to Kano and ask questions, but that wasn’t enough for Larry.
“I’ll phone the ambassador every day,” he said. “But if he’s too distracted by diplomatic duties, then I’ll chase anyone who’ll listen.
I’ll speak to my own senator in New York. If she wants my vote, then I want her ear, and then I want some action. And if I can’t do that from Lagos, I’ll jack the whole fucking job in, push it up the ambassador’s arse, and go straight to Washington for a showdown with the Secretary of State.”
“Do we all agree?” Colin asked as if we were all sitting in leather seats around a table in an oak-panelled boardroom somewhere.
But Larry still hadn’t finished.
“I want to know who the fuck runs the Biological Weapons Convention and the UN Office for Disarmament Affairs,” he said. “If this isn’t a biological weapon, then I don’t know what is. Who the hell’s in charge? I even found a division of Peace Studies and International Development at the University of Bradford that’s been going for fifty years. Where the hell is Bradford anyway?”
Kevin butted in, “Why is that important?”
“It’s important because the transmission of a deadly microbe is covered by the convention. Every one of their eight darned provisions makes that perfectly clear. But have they got any teeth? How do they react to threats? Is there a system in place? If so, what is it and how quickly can they react? The system’s fucked.”
“Yeah,” Kevin said, raising a fist like the activist he’d always wanted to be.
“I have a thousand questions for organisations run by failed politicians who get welcomed to champagne receptions, dress up like penguins for dinners and then put the job on their CVs so they can have similar jobs with similar perks. And you and I are paying all their fucking expenses through our tax.”
On his sagging sofa, Kevin was fully agitated. “That’s it, Larry. Stuff
‘em.”
Larrry was still in full flow. “So, before or after I get on a plane for Washington to see the Secretary of State, I’m also going to jump on one going to Geneva. I’ll walk straight into the WHO office, demand to see that Chinese woman in charge and ask her if she has any real powers or does her fancy office just give out basic, common-sense health advice that anyone can get just by checking the colour of their tonsils, feeling their lumps, or checking themselves in the bathroom mirror.”
Kevin and Larry eventually waved their virtual goodbyes but Colin and I stayed online to talk about Charles Brady and Virex.
“Brady frustrates me,” I said. “He’s weak. He’s an arsehole. I’m not even sure he’s fit to preside over a leading-edge biotech business. I also think he realises what has happened, and he’s scared. He should never have moved out of the laboratory to run a business like Virex.
He’s now out if his depth and knows it.
“Send him an email, Jinx. Make it nice and formal so it scares even more shit out of him. Tell him that our investigation on his behalf has uncovered disturbing facts about biomedical research. Tell him that what we’ve found is taking us in a different direction not covered by the agreement we signed and that we no longer feel bound by it.”
I agreed, watched him take another bite of his sandwich and switched off. I then called Anna, but her phone was also switched off.